


Mashymre Cello: The Legend of Full Frontal

by DeaconofSlaanesh



Category: Gundam & Related Fandoms, Gundam ZZ, Universal Century Gundam
Genre: F/M, Mecha, Military, Nudity, One Shot, Public Nudity, Space Battles, Spaceships, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:41:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29797596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeaconofSlaanesh/pseuds/DeaconofSlaanesh
Summary: Mashymre has learned and grown as a commander since his initial misadventures against the Shangri-La kids. He's also gone nuts. Despite that, he's as ridiculously handsome as ever, and all the women on his new ship want a piece of him. When his flight commander convinces him to go fully naked, this situation only intensifies. Fight, brave captain! Don't let these succubi steal whatever is left of your youthful innocence!





	Mashymre Cello: The Legend of Full Frontal

**Author's Note:**

> This fic originally appeared in the /m/ag, a fan magazine with mecha-related stories, art, and comics from 4chan's /m/ board. Volume 1 was released in February 2021, and Volume 2 should be also be out before this year is half over. If you, the reader, have any ideas, submissions would be much appreciated.

“Mashymre, why did you change your outfit? It’s so much more… revealing, now.” Illia Pazom, flight team leader on the Endra, had known Mashymre for a while, but they had spent months without a word between them since he’d been taken promotion to Captain. As a captain, he’d fought battles, carried out important operations, and even conducted diplomacy. He had also been given cyber-newtype enhancements.

According to the labs, the enhancements were a failure. The increases in his ability were so low that the Geymalk he’d been given was reissued to someone else. Even so, Mashymre seemed to Illia like something of a different person now. Hopefully, his answer to her question would help her decipher these changes.

Fortunately, Mashymre Cello, captain of the Endra, had prepared for the day when he might be asked this question. He’d assumed it would have come sooner, but many officers had already began changing to more skin-revealing outfits before he did, so he was assumed to be merely following fashion tends. As if! Mashymre paced back and forth, circled around behind to Illia’s left side, dramatically tossed his cape, and spoke in a brooding, yet confidential, tone. “This change in clothing… has a deeper meaning behind it. 

The above actions were harder than one might think, mostly because the room Mashymre found himself in was no spacious void-facing observatory deck, where a large window into the void might artistically reflect his form. Actually, it was a pantry lined with sealing cabinets, with a walking space about one meter wide enclosed.

Scant minutes ago, Mashymre, after a half-shift of hard work overseeing his ship’s 13th consecutive day of uneventful patrols in the shoal zone, had went to the kitchen to retrieve a bag of “spicy” beef-substitute jerky for his personal enjoyment. But without prior notice, Illia had grabbed him by the back of his vest collar and dragged him into the pantry, where she proceeded to slam him into the cabinetry, aggressively nuzzle his neck and cheeks, and partially unbutton his vest. Before long, she retreated to the opposite wall, her face considerably reddened. Was this a sign of a fever? Mashymre mentally tsk-tsked her. It was so inconsiderate of her to closely approach other people while ill! And then Illia asked her question, and so Mashymre answered her in his own fashion.

But to a dispassionate observer, it would have appeared more like Mashymre turned to his left, walked into a cabinet, turned back around, barely saved himself from walking into another one, squeezed himself against the cabinets on his right, shuffled behind Illia, tripped on his feet, caught himself on a cabinet handle, sprung to his feet, and then made his cape-tossing motion. Thankfully, no dispassionate observers could be found.

It’s worth mentioning that Mashymre was not, in fact, wearing a cape. The cape had went out with the rest of his old uniform. He now wore a tight leather vest with a high popped collar and an open chest, which made it hard to fit on a cape. So his cape-tossing motion only served to slam his hand into another cabinet.

Also, Mashymre had been chewing jerky before he found himself in the pantry, and he’d no opportunity to properly dispose of it beforehand. So when he spoke, his voice came out in more of an incoherent mumble than he’d been going for. He repeated himself louder, but the jerky came out of his mouth as he spoke, and although he snatched it back before it hit the ground, the effect was ruined.

“I’ve committed terrible sins,” said Mashymre. He discreetly placed his chewed-up jerky in an organic waste receptacle. “I can no longer call myself a knight of our beloved Lady Haman. To conceal this behind a uniform would be a deception that mocks justice. So I must bare my skin to the world, so that I may someday atone and wipe this blemish off our just cause.”

“I see. You’re so thoughtful, my little Marshmallow.” Illia stared deep into Mashymre’s eyes. As she stared, inspiration struck her.

“But Mashy, you’re not baring all your skin,” she said. “Your vest and pants are covering them.”

“Yes; sadly, there is a dress standard I must uphold.”

“Who enforces the dress standard on the ship?”

“The captain, of course.”

“And who is the captain?”

“Is this a trick question? …Me?”

“If you’re the captain, can’t you show as much skin as you want then?”

“It would set a bad example for the ranks.”

“They don’t carry the same burden you do. This is your way of serving Haman, so it should come before little regulations.”

Mashymre thought for a while. What would his superiors say? The last time he commanded a ship, his subordinates had conspired to record all his little gaffes and got him demoted. But Illia had a lot more professionalism than Chara did; she certainly wouldn’t let petty politics get in the way of a mission.

And Haman knew how he felt about baring his shameful inner self to the world! He’d told her, or at least shouted it out in the hallway while she was going into a meeting. Really, the Queen of Space was probably just on the verge of ordering him to throw out his new uniform already. Haman would certainly be impressed if he came back naked and relieved her the minor burden of having to draft and send such an order.

“I’ll do it,” said Mashymre. He unbuttoned his vest top to bottom and took it off, then took off his shoes, then undid and pulled out his belt. He couldn’t help but notice Illia’s rapt attention on his fingers as they did their work. Always so attentive to detail, that Illia! It was one of the many qualities that made her a top-notch lieutenant.

With his belt out, and a few seconds later his fly unzipped, Mashymre pushed his pants down, and pushed, and pushed, and pushed. Taking his pants off was never easy; the pants waist was just too tight to easily pass his ass. Finally, he got them off by lying on his ground, bringing his feet past his head, and pulling the waistband towards him.

Illia was a great help there too, although oddly enough, as she pushed, she put her hands palm-down inside her captain’s pants instead of just gripping the waistband. As she exerted herself, it felt like she was kneading his cheeks, and her thumbs seemed to stray towards his asshole. But upon further consideration on Mashymre’s part, this method put more space between his cheeks and the pants material, which would probably get the job done faster, just as he would expect of his efficient lieutenant!

With one last heave, the pants came off, and Mashymre stood up. For a while, he just reveled in his new freedom from tight-squeezing clothes. But eventually he noticed that Illia’s eyes had, for quite some time, been directed at a certain body part of his.

“Is there something wrong with my penis?”

No reply came from Illia’s lips. Her hand reached for Mashymre’s penis, but fell short.

“Do you want to touch it?”

“No, no, no!” said Illia. “I don’t want to touch your dick! No one does! I was just… wondering what happened to the hair on your crotch!”

“Oh, I’ve been shaving there ever since that time my hair caught on the zipper. I guess I won’t need to do that anymore!”

“It’s fine as it is, Marshmallow…” Illia touched the area above Mashymre’s penis and rubbed the stubble, eliciting a slight giggle from the nude captain. Totally fixated, she went in further.

“Ah, that reminds me.” Mashymre stood up, accidentally bopping Illia in the eye with his penis. She shuddered and fell back on her behind. “It’s time to inspect the mobile suits!” He looked at a clock on the wall. “Past time, really. You come with me; we’ll split up and get this done on schedule.” Mashymre proceeded towards the door.

“Wait! But… not now!” Seeing Mashymre leaving regardless of her words, Illia got up and hurried after him.

* * *

Mashymre moved fast with no restrictive clothing. Illia wasn’t able to catch up with him until he’d reached the Mobile Suit deck and was already beginning to address the crew at the MS deck.

The maintenance men didn’t see it coming. Although Mashymre kept a detailed schedule for his inspections of the Endra’s various departments, he refused to inform the crew of his schedule. Otherwise, they might conspire to hide their true behaviors from him.

At this moment, it had been 45 minutes since the Endra’s Zssas had returned from training in the shoal zone. Mashymre absolutely insisted that his pilots train in their actual machines in real space instead of just racking up hours in the combat simulators. In his view, the latter were worse than useless taken alone, as they encouraged pilots to overestimate their control over their craft. Real Mobile Suits, especially in zero-g, moved much more quirkily than anything a computer could replicate.

However, there was a downside to all this outer-space training, which was much more maintenance work. The spent fuel and munitions were only a minor aspect of this extra burden. Mobile suits came back with verniers corroded from their own flames, frames bent from motion, and carapaces scarred from micrometeoroids. The maintenance team was constantly harried replacing or fixing all of the various parts that needed to be replaced or fixed. Or at least, they should have been.

A snapshot of the mechanics in the moments before Mashymre arrived. All were sat around a collection of opened baskets and a woman. They laughed and sang, as squeeze-bottles of beer and vaporizers of unknown intoxicants went around the raucous assembly.

The woman in the center, a pilot named Bahia Jubayri, was of a different mind about this impromptu party. Hands were closed around her forearms; her eyes drifted towards them. They drifted, and then quickly recoiled from the threat of the men noticing. Their grip was not tight, but if they knew she was not pleased with the way things were, what would they then do?

Squeeze-bottles kept making their way to her; she accepted but only took tiny sips of the beer. Even if there was nothing adulterating the beer, if she drank enough of it the men might still be able to get what they were really after.

Bahia was no unattractive lady, after all. Certainly she looked better than the two women on the maintenance team, who now hovered at the edge of the throng, hogging what squeeze-bottles and vaporizers accidentally made their way to them. The gangly and big-nosed Federica and the slack-jawed and pimpled Helga would never get the attention that Bahia, with her smooth skin, athletic body, and well-proportioned face framed in short black hair, did. The dubiously honored woman wondered if the two mechanic girls were jealous, and whether they still would be if they had ever been in her situation.

That whole dynamic turned on its head as Mashymre hailed the mechanics, and then turned back onto its feet as he came into view, leaving the gathering too discombobulated to project the appearance of working. Conversation ceased, and beer dribbled out of o-shaped mouths. All eyes were on the captain, and a sight he was.

Mashymre didn’t let them gawk in silence for long. “Good afternoon, men.” It was 3:20 AM Zeon Time, but no one could really tell it was night in space, and the captain felt that, since he had been awake for several hours, it might as well have been the afternoon. “Congratulations on the good work!”

It was both a fantasy and a nightmare come true. It was a fantasy for all the women and some of the men, whose eyes feasted on the toned muscles, beadlike nipples, and exposed penis of their captain. But it was also a nightmare for everyone, as they hadn’t performed any of the maintenance their captain had come to check.

No one said a word.

“As I was saying, you’ve really outdone yourselves. It should take at least an hour after landing to get the Zssas properly checked and stored, but you’ve already done it!” Mashymre winked and smiled. “I’ll allow this little party, as long as you all get a move on with assembling my Zaku III afterwards.”

All eyes were on the captain. Mashymre took note. Since stripping, he had felt a new spring in his step. It was like the ambient energy of the spaceship was flowing into his exposed skin. Evidently, this energy also enhanced his commanding presence.

“You don’t have to stay silent,” said Mashymre. Regardless, the mechanics did. The captain pointed to the nearest Zssa. “I’ll just check your work on this one over here.”

Rushed glances and sotto voices went around the gaggle of mechanics, as Mashymre drew closer to the Zssa. Bahia felt herself adopting her orbiters’ trepidation, although she still hoped that in the end, the captain would break up the party and let her go back to her cabin for a nap sooner than she otherwise would have. Just before Mashymre would have reached the Zssa, a voice rang through the hangar. “Don’t!”

It was Federica, of course. While disaster was indeed imminent for all the mechanics, if things went as they were, Mashymre’s wrath would be distributed evenly among them. But if anyone tried performing some shenanigans in order to divert him at this last minute, they would get the brunt of the punishment upon discovery. Therefore, simple game theory would dictate silence. But this lanky and lonely mechanic had drunk well past game theory.

“If you touch that Zssa… It will explode!” Federica mimed an explosion with her arms, as both all the mechanics and their guest alike cringed in terror.

“Explode?” Mashymre seemed to believe her. “What? Is there a bomb?”

“There’s a bomb… in the reactor… kill us all.”

Mashymre grabbed Federica by the collar. “How did a bomb get into the reactor? We haven’t seen any enemies.”

Federica, not having thought her plan this far out, could only stutter and stumble in circles. Eventually, Mashymre threw her aside.

“How did a bomb get into the reactor? Can anyone tell me? Why is nobody saying anything?”

The mechanics were truly at a loss for words now. Most had only consumed enough alcohol to get a slight buzz, so they knew there was nothing they could possibly say to their advantage, and the others’ mouths were held shut by the peer pressure.

Finally, Bahia broke the silence. “There is no bomb.”

“Really? Why did she say there was one, then?”

Federica pulled herself to her feet and pre-empted Bahia. “What I meant to say was… Because I saw your beautiful naked body, I’m exploding with love for you! We should call off this investigation, and get to having dozens of children together!” She launched herself at Mashymre, and buried her head in his bare abs.

Mashymre took the mechanic girl by the shoulders, and separated himself from her. “What does this have to do with reactors and mobile suits? I don’t understand.”

Federica placed her hands on Mashymre’s cheeks. “Our love… is a lethal weapon! More powerful than any reactor! It will engulf the entire universe into a whirlpool of raw carnal energy, unless it’s dissipated now!”

“I’m sorry, what’s your name again?”

“Call me Federica… Federica Cello.” She smiled and clung onto his bicep.

“Cello?” Mashymre recoiled in disgust. “That’s my last name, you perverted freak. Sexual relations between two family members is called incest, and according to Lady Haman’s law, incest is a crime. Say good bye to your cabin, because you’ll be sleeping in the brig for the next week.” He tossed Federica off of his arm, and gave her a light kick in the back for good measure.

“Her name is Federica Bonaccini! You aren’t related!” All eyes turned to Bahia. “There’s no bomb either, in any sense of the word!” She gestured around her. “These guys were just too busy hitting on me to do the maintenance on the Zssas!” Feeling the pressure of the men, Bahia ducked back into the crowd.

Mashymre asked, “Is this true?” Federica got up, and started sobbing uncontrollably.

Nods and murmured yeses came from the mechanics. The chief engineer spoke up more clearly. “It’s not like that, we just wanted to congratulate her on doing well in the mock battle today! Although, to be honest… there was flirting involved.”

Mashymre’s face contorted into an expression of rage. He stepped up to the nearest mechanic, who straightened himself into a hapless salute. With one punch, the mechanic was sent to the floor. The next-closest mechanic met the same fate. Then, scanning the crowd for his next victim, Mashymre caught a glimpse of a rose. Bahia had been given one earlier, and now she clung onto it for dear life, not even noticing the thorns digging into her palms.

_Haman’s tight red lips opened and closed; Mashymre could barely hear that words were coming out of them. A rose placed itself between Haman’s lips and Mashymre’s, and now the conversation came into audibility. “This is yours. Let all under you see the rose as a symbol of love, the comrade-love that drags its participants through all hardships to victory. Now go.”_

Mashymre’s expression softened, and he stepped back from the mass of mechanics. “You know what, it doesn’t really matter if the mobile suits are repaired right away, as much as that they’re repaired by the time we need them. A punishment is in order, but I won’t resort to brute corporal punishment.” The two men Mashymre had already punched muttered curses that Mashymre, fortunately for them, didn’t hear. “Name and rank please, young lady? I must commend you for honesty.”

“Chief Petty Officer Bahia Jubayri, s-sir!” She blushed at the thought of being praised by Mashymre.

Mashymre squinted. “Bahia Jubayri? Wait, you aren’t a mechanic. You’re a pilot!” He made it sound like an accusation.

“Y-yes, I’m a pilot.” That the captain hadn’t recognized Bahia quite disheartened the young lady. She reminded herself that she was only one of the pilots aboard the Endra, and that Mashymre was too busy doing whatever it was ship captains did to remember all of his crew’s faces. Even if she was the second-in-command of the Endra’s MS complement, she normally only interacted with the captain through Illia, so it wasn’t like he had any reason to remember who she was.

Mashymre frowned. One of his worse faults, he felt, was a difficulty remembering faces. Since the Cyber-Newtype operation, it had worsened into a total inability, and he’d also gotten a bit bad with names. He’d known Bahia and all the rest of the pilots since they fled to Axis as refugees from Side 3, but he still couldn’t tell her apart. This was why he encouraged his crew to style their hair or clothing in an identifying manner. Most of them, including Bahia, unfortunately still didn’t. Honestly, it irritated him. “Do you realize what you’ve done, girl?”

“What I’ve done?”

“Yes, what you’ve done.”

“I didn’t do anything! I’m not even missing anything; this is my sleep shift.”

“Just your sleep shift, huh? And you think that’s so unimportant?”

“Huh?”

“Combat power on the battlefield is built on the combination of two things: Mobile Suits and pilots. Keeping pilots functional is just as important as keeping machines maintained. If you don’t maintain yourself by sleeping during sleep shift, you’ll destroy your body. Imagine if you tried to go out to defend this ship, and you fell asleep in the middle of battle! You don’t want to be responsible for everyone’s deaths, do you?”

Bahia nodded eagerly. For Mashymre to be caring about her body, even if he couched it in terms of battle and survival, truly brought warmth to her heart. With wet eyes and a smile, she fell into Mashymre’s chest. Some blood dribbled from her nose.

“Reflect on that well. You sleep in the brig tonight.”

“Why?” Stricken, Bahia looked up at the captain.

“Because it’s a punishment,” said Mashymre. The mechanics’ snickering was audible.

“Why is is it that I get punished for being dragged into these guys’ surprise happy hour, and they come off scot-free for throwing a party on work time, just to try to get in my pants?” Bahia raised her voice now; after cowering under the mechanics’ advances for so long it felt good to yell.

Mashymre paused for a minute, and then, returning Bahia’s gaze, responded. “That’s a good point. Everyone, you will get two days sleeping in the brig.”

The crowd went into an uproar. It turned on itself, each mechanic blaming the other for the current situation. The chief engineer tried to reason with Mashymre. “My captain, please reconsider. There’s just no way we can all sleep in there at once!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be experts at fitting things together? Figure it out.” Mashymre pushed him aside.

Bahia put her hands on Mashymre’s shoulders, and pled, “Captain, I don’t want revenge on the mechanics. You don’t have to punish them. Just please forgive me for being caught up in their scheme. Let me go and sleep in my bed. That’s all I want!”

Taking Bahia under the armpits, Mashymre gingerly stepped away from the sobbing pilot. She collapsed on the floor as soon as he let go. “It’s not about you…”

Bahia got up to her hands and knees. “Please, show mercy. I promise, if this happens again I’ll just ignore them and leave the hangar.” She picked up her rose and clutched it in front of her chest.

_Haman sat before the window. As she leaned back onto the floor from her beanbag chair, her breasts rode up to her shoulders, and the space underneath was illuminated by the incoming light from the window. Her shirt stretched under the weight, but in a few seconds came untucked from her tights. Her soft white belly shined like a lightbulb, with such gorgeous intensity that Mashymre was forced to look away. When he looked back, Haman was holding a rose above her head and breasts. “Take this rose, and…”_

As Mashymre stared at the rose, his penis steadily rose into an erection. With no tight pants to hide the boner, it was seen by all. Bahia fell on her behind in shock. When she’d went off to become a pilot for Neo-Zeon, she’d thought it would mean putting her love life on hold until the war was over. None of the crewmen on the Endra were the sort she would want to date. She was friends with some, but she knew she would be repulsed if she got too close to them.

Mashymre she’d always written off, given how he was always around Illia, who was prettier and a better pilot than she. With the way she looked and talked to the captain, and how often they were alone with each other each day, she and all the ship had pieced together that the captain and the flight team leader were surreptitiously dating.

Now, though, Bahia had undeniable proof that the captain was attracted to her. Soon, one night, he would certainly come to her room and spill the truth of his love into her, yes, all of it into her.

They would have to keep their relationship secret from Illia, if only to avoid hurting her feelings. They would sneak off while she was distracted, and share brief affections while they could. They would hold hands under the mess hall table, and smile at each other while no one was looking. Maybe he would even sneak into her Zssa’s cockpit, where they could make love with no care for how much noise they might make.

It was all too much. As Bahia fantasized, her face became redder and redder, until finally the accumulated blood burst out from her nose. She collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.

The mechanics backed away from Mashymre and Bahia, forming a tight circle around them. Mashymre checked her pulse, and upon confirming she was still alive took her up in a bridal carry. Illia, who had been checking a Zssa on the other side of the hangar, launched herself towards Mashymre as soon as she saw.

Mashymre turned to his lieutenant, making sure not to let Bahia’s head fall below her shoulders. “Ah, Illia. Take care of these mechanics’ punishment. I need to take this girl to the medic.”

Illia gracefully touched down in front of Mashymre, and bowed her head. “What are they being punished for, Marshmallow?” Expecting a response, she lifted her head, but Mashymre was already gone.

* * *

Mashymre wasted no time getting to the medical bay. He kicked the access pad until the doctor opened the door, brushed past her, and deposited Bahia onto the closest bed.

Dr. Malgorzata Witek was a blonde-haired, pale-skinned woman of early middle age. Although she was the ship’s doctor, she’d only gotten a two-year nursing degree in her schooling. Since Axis was even shorter of qualified medical personnel than it was of pilots, she’d been granted a medical license after a month-long crash course, and this voyage was her first. “Oh my, captain. What’s got you in such a hurry?” she asked. A second later, she added, “And why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”

“This pilot just passed out in the hangar. I need you to help her.” Mashymre sat down in an unoccupied chair. His penis had long since settled down due to the running and confusion, so it drooped between his legs.

“And my other question?” Witek’s eyes ran up and down Mashymre’s body. She always mentally undressed her captain when they met, so this situation wasn’t too off-putting. Really, she was somewhat relieved that his body looked much like she’d imagined.

Mashymre crossed his arms. “Can it wait? This is life and death we’re talking about.”

Witek pouted. “Fine, be that way. Why did she pass out?”

Mashymre shook his head. “To be honest, I’m not sure. She was up when she should have been sleeping, so it might have been sleep deprivation. But she had a sudden nosebleed right before she passed out, so maybe it could have been that too.”

“Hm.” Witek pursed her lips. “I’ll put her on a saline IV.”

“Will that help?”

“Yeah. Probably.” Desperately keeping her face from quivering, Witek wracked her brain for the proper procedure for this scenario. She couldn’t remember anything about this from college, and the crash course hadn’t covered it either. She knew she’d been involved with a case like this once or twice back on Side 3, but she had only assisted the real doctor there. They’d definitely used an IV back then. Although she couldn’t remember for sure, she was fairly confident it was a saline drip. Now if she could only remember anything else that had been done, she’d be set!

This train of thought actually distracted her from the naked captain as she prepared the IV and stuck it into a vein on Bahia’s arm. Mashymre watched her proceedings intently. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Are you a nurse? If not, then you can leave now.” If Mashymre left, she could try and look up what she should be doing.

Mashymre shook his head. “She’s under punishment, and needs supervision. Otherwise, she might escape.”

“She won’t get past me.”

“You may be surprised. Women are pretty strong.” For example, one time, when Mashymre had been wrapping up his duties on the bridge, Illia had lifted him up out of his captain’s chair and carried him all the way to bed. She’d accidentally brought him to her own bed instead of his, but the captain thought her kind gesture to be impressive regardless.

“I’m a woman too!”

“Yeah, but she’s in peak physical condition and you’re a lot older than her.”

Witek quivered with rage. She was only 31! 12 years older than the captain, sure, and 14 years older than that floozy who was in charge of the MS complement, but that wasn’t enough to make her some kind of old lady! Was this why Mashymre never paid her any attention? He would pay, and she had an idea as to how. “Mashymre, when was the last time you had your physical?”

“August 24, one week after the enhancement. Six months from August is… September October November December January February….” Mashymre counted on his fingers. “It would be next February, so I’m up to date.”

“Up to date?” Witek scoffed theatrically. “The Physician’s Association recommends once a month. Otherwise, you could miss something in the interval.”

“A month? That means I’m… four months overdue!”

“Two and a half, actually.”

“Never mind the numbers. Can you get me back on schedule?”  


Witek gave a toothy grin. “Of course.” She gestured to an empty bed. “Just sit right down.”

Mashymre sat down, and Witek brought out a stethoscope. She measured a somewhat low, but fairly normal heart rate, and proceeded to confirm that Mashymre lacked breathing problems. These checks she did by the book, in order to lull her patient into a false sense of security.

Witek couldn’t help but smirk as she took out the sphygmomanometer. Now the fun would begin. She strapped the cuff to his arm, and clipped the clip onto his thumb. Then she began pumping the air cuff. And she pumped, and she pumped.

Mashymre winced as the cuff tightened. He could feel the blood circulation in his hand being cut off. “Doctor, are you sure you haven’t been pumping too long?”

“Captain, you’ve missed two physicals. I have to make them up for you.” Mashymre nodded, and Witek kept pumping.

After the final pump, Witek let out a smile. Mashymre was making faces and desperately grasping at his hand. But Mashymre had a ways to go before his suffering reached the total of Witek’s injured feelings. She measured the pressure, deflated the sphygmomanometer, and made to take off the arm cuff. But as she undid the velcro, she froze in revelation.

What she had just done, taking heartbeat and blood pressure, that was what she was supposed to do to that pilot! The whole procedure clicked together in her mind now. Depending on how the blood pressure, heartbeat, and blood sugar measured from a little finger-prick matched with records from the physical or typical levels, an IV might or not be necessary. If not, the patient would just rest until they eventually woke up. What would her teachers at nursing school say if they knew she’d forgotten to take blood pressure?

Mashymre tapped her on the forehead. “Are you OK, doctor?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Witek said. “Just… vertigo.”

“Vertigo? That could be caused by a lack of sleep. You should take Vitamin D.”

“Who do you think’s the doctor here?” Witek stood up and stomped to a cabinet. How could Mashymre say that? She took pains to get a full 8 hours every night to keep up her looks, how could he not see that? The captain must have been calling her ugly again. He was probably laughing on the inside, thinking she was too dumb to tell. Just like every Cyber-Newtype, he thought he was superior to everyone just because he was good at piloting a mobile suit. Admittedly, Witek had only ever met one other cyber-newtype for her to base her theory on (a young redheaded girl who was much more direct with her insults than the captain). So maybe her conclusions wouldn’t pass peer review.

Even so, the captain would really get what was coming to him now. Right in his tousled blue hair, his soft hazel eyes, his chiseled abs…. Witek forced herself off the subject. From her cabinet, she took a “special” reflex hammer. What made it special was that its rubber head was just about worn off, so the metal underneath could actually cause pain. She’d make Mashymre scream.

“Alright, let me see your knee, and I’ll test your reflexes.” Mashymre dutifully presented his left knee, splaying his right out to the side. Witek took aim for the point where his common peroneal nerve draped over the head of his fibula, the leg’s equivalent of the funny bone. Tightly gripping the hammer handle, she brought the head down as hard as she could on Mashymre’s knee. But at the last second, his knee twitched out of the hammer’s path.

“Hold still, captain!”

“I’m sorry, I just flinched.”

Witek leveled, raised, and lowered her hammer once more, and missed her mark once again. “I said hold still!”

“I can’t help it! I think my cyber-newtype reflexes are acting up.”

Witek attempted to hammer her captain’s knee again, with the same success.

“Hold still!” Witek held down Mashymre’s leg. As she raised her hammer again, Mashymre winced. But before the hammer could come down, he rolled over, kicking the doctor with his free leg. She fell to the floor.

Witek gathered herself up, a livid scowl clearly etched into her face. “How dare you!” She pounced onto Mashymre, hammering away at any body part she could hold down.

Mashymre cringed under her blows, attempting to apologize, but he found himself fighting back against the doctor. Limbs flailed, and hammers swung, until a knocking was heard from the door. A beep rang out, and the door opened to reveal Lieutenant Illia Pazom.

What Illia saw was the ship’s doctor crouched over her captain splayed nude on the bed. The first few buttons on the doctor’s shirt had come unbuttoned, and her cleavage hung in her bra over Mashymre’s face. Her legs were squeezed between Mashymre’s, her right arm was being held up by the captain, her wrist was ineffectually swinging a small hammer, and her left hand was squeezing the captain’s penis.

The door closed, the opening authentication having expired. Illia put her card to the access pad again, and stepped inside. “Would you like to tell me what this is all about?”

Witek realized too late now where her left hand had gone, but she put up a defiant face. “Take a seat, Illia. It’s far too complex for you to understand. I went to college for a reason, you know.”

Illia folded her arms. “I may not have finished the sixth grade, but this is obvious.”

Mashymre peered out from under Witek. “It’s okay to be confused, Illia. I almost graduated high school, but I have no idea what’s going on.”

“See Illia, the captain knows to keep his lay intuitions out of medicine. Why don’t you follow suit?”

“Whatever,” Illia said, suppressing an urge to spit. She sat down, as Witek dismounted Mashymre. “I came here to tell you that I got the mechanics back to work. They said something about not being able to work because they were being sent to the brig, so I commuted whatever their punishment was. How’s Bahia?”

Witek took a swivel chair and rolled herself to the pilot’s bed. Bahia’s eyes were steadily opening and closing, as if she was trying to go back to sleep. Witek grabbed her ear with her slender fingers, and twisted as hard as she could.

“OW! My ear!” Bahia sprang into a sitting posture, panting heavily. Witek winked and gave a thumbs-up to Mashymre and Illia. Then she turned back away from them, and sighed in relief.

“Are you alright? What made you pass out?” Mashymre strode to Bahia’s side.

Bahia stared into Mashymre’s eyes. “Captain… I was looking at your… and I was thinking….” In her peripheral vision, she noticed that Illia was also in the room. “…Something I can’t remember at all.”

“Drat,” said Mashymre.

“What were you looking at?” Witek asked. “A mobile suit? A barrel of oil? A member of the male species who only partially disgraces it?” She was thinking about things a mobile suit pilot might see in a hangar.

“Well, I guess to say that he isn’t a disgrace would be an understatement….”

“Who could that be, I wonder?”

“I was looking at Mashymre’s… abs.”

“You were, were you.” Illia gave Bahia a knowing glance, as if to say, ‘I saw what happened and I know what you saw.’

However, Bahia and Illia had only been in the same unit for three weeks. They were not really in ‘knowing glance’ territory yet. “They’re very nice abs! I wasn’t looking at anything else!”

“I’m sorry. To think it was my body that caused such trouble….” Scowling, Mashymre paced over to a nearby mirror. He melodramatically slumped over the washbasin beneath it, but lifted his head defiantly to the mirror. “There’s nothing else to be done. Illia, fetch my clothes.”

Illia stood up. “Let’s not be hasty here!” All the women in the room murmured similar things.

“Hasty. If I was more hasty to realize the effect I was having, my pilot would be sleeping happily in the brig, instead of struggling on life support for sheer survival.”

Bahia gave her IV tube an odd look. “It’s not that bad.”

“For the good of my crew, I must hide myself under my armor of leather. Fetch my clothes.”

Defeated, Illia shrugged, punched Bahia in the shoulder, and made for the door. The pilot made no complaint.

“WAIT!” The cry came from Witek. “You’ve got this all misunderstood!”

Mashymre and Illia both paused, and turned to Witek. “What is it?”

Witek braced a clipboard against her chest for effect. “I’ve run some blood tests on Bahia. Her nosebleed and unconsciousness were actually both caused by a disease. Your body has nothing to with it, so you don’t need to change anything.”

“You took blood tests?” Bahia covered her head. She wasn’t an addict or anything, but she feared what a blood test might reveal, especially after that party.

“When did you take a blood test?” Mashymre asked.

Witek gestured to the IV setup. “You saw me.” Mashymre’s brow furrowed, but Bahia exhaled in relief.

“Oh, that makes sense,” Illia said, as she noticed Mashymre’s skepticism. “Take the blood out, put the liquid in.”

Mashymre looked to Illia, then to Witek, then to Bahia, then back to Witek. They all gave the widest grin they could muster. Mashymre relaxed himself, evidently believing Illia’s explanation. “So if there’s a disease on board, does that mean we should be quarantined?”

Witek said, “Nah. We’re essential workers on this ship. Besides, it probably isn’t contagious. My theory is that her condition was brought on not just by the disease, but also by a vitamin deficiency.”

“Which vitamin?” Bahia asked.

“Vitamin ‘D’,” said Witek. Bahia blushed; Illia snerked.

Mashymre said, “There isn’t much UV on this ship, is there. Is there any way to alleviate the deficiency?”

“Have her do what you do.” Witek grinned. “She’ll get better eventually.” Bahia blushed deeper, and Illia burst into laughter.

“Makes sense,” Mashymre said. ‘What a true knight, that Illia. Always maintaining a positive attitude, even in the face of woe’, he thought.

Bahia averted her eyes from Mashymre. “Maybe I can just quietly suffer this one out.”

Witek shrugged. “If you want to disobey medical advice, that’s fine by me. I’m not that kind of girl. Captain, Lieutenant, clear out of the room so I can take out the IV.”

As soon as Mashymre and Illia left the room, a voice from the intercom told the two that all bridge personnel were needed on the bridge. Without informing Bahia or Witek, they rushed to their station.

* * *

Once again, Mashymre made great time naked. Illia found herself straggling behind her captain, who seemed to put himself in just the right places so that he could propel himself off of every surface on the path to the bridge. She couldn’t help but wondering if this mobility was a manifestation of his cyber-newtypism. As they reached the door to the bridge, she finally asked him.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s anything like that,” Mashymre said. “I’ve always been good in zero G. You should have been there back before they finished the gravity block on Axis. It was total chaos. Can’t get through something like that without learning anything.”

“But you’re a lot faster now. I don’t usually struggle so much to keep up with you.”

“Really? I didn’t notice.”

Illia rolled her eyes. “What about you has changed in the last few months?”

Mashymre thought for a second. “I feel like I understand my role as a captain better.”

“That’s not what I was thinking.”

“It wasn’t?” Mashymre tried to read Illia’s mind. The people at the NT research facility said that true mind-reading was a power that only very rarely manifested in newtypes, but Mashymre was feeling lucky this day.

He came up short, at least this time. However, he did notice that Illia kept glancing down at his body. Was it a hint? “I’m not wearing any clothes now! Is that it?”

“That’s also not….”

“It’s like, instead of any shirts or pants, the whole room is my clothes. I feel my presence going out to each wall, and when I move I can feel a sort of friction.”

“Hm.” Illia nodded and made a mental note.

“Wait, I know. Is that why you’ve been dressing like that since we left port?” Mashymre pointed to Illia’s miniskirt, her tube top, and her leather shrug.

Illia stuttered. Mashymre had never mentioned her outfit before! She’d customized her outfit to try and get Mashymre to notice her, but until now only the lower ranks had. She would have went fully nude like her captain, if she thought it would actually do any better at attracting him.

Mashymre squeezed Illia’s belly. “Can you feel that?”

Illia could. Mashymre’s first touches on her body, or at least the first touches he’d meant to give, penetrated like cold nails of tingling pleasure to her spine. She shuddered and fell.

Mashymre looked down, surprised. “Wow, I guess I was right. Are you okay?” Illia moaned. “I’ll have to tell Ms. Doctor about this. But that’ll have to wait until we see what’s up on the bridge.” He picked Illia up, opened the door, and dragged her through.

* * *

The bridge seemed more alert than usual. Only one man, the radar officer, was actually working, but none of the other bridge staff were chatting, or reading magazines, or playing phone games. “What’s the matter?” Mashymre asked.

“We’ve detected a ship coming up on our stern,” the XO said. He was sitting in the captain’s chair, looking forward, and hadn’t yet noticed Mashymre’s appearance. The gunnery officer had, but was pretending not to look. The others on the bridge, the navigator and the radar officer, were pointed squarely at their stations and did not see their captain.

“Thanks for keeping the chair warm,” said Mashymre, leaning on the seat back. The XO nodded, but grunted territorially. “Miss comms girl, send them a laser right away, and ask them their names, affiliation, and purpose in this zone!” No reply came. “Did you hear me?” The captain dumped Illia in the lap of his XO, who mentally added it to his counts of evidence for fraternization for the complaint he had prepared in case he ever wanted his captain court-martialed. Mashymre strode up to the communications system. “Answer me, you….” There was no one in the seat, he now realized. “Ah, where’s the miss comms girl?”

The XO said, “She went to the bathroom right before we found the ship. We’ve been trying to call her.” As he finally got a good look at Mashymre, his eyes bulged. “Captain… your clothes….” He put his mouth to Illia’s ear. “Is this another cyber-NT thing?”

Illia shrugged. “Not exactly. Just play along, OK?” The XO frowned.

Mashymre approached the man at the radar console. “You, radar-man.”

“Ndiaye.” He didn’t look up.

“Dya-yay. Find out anything about this ship?”

“It was on track to cross our wake when we picked it up on the infrared, but then it started turning towards us, and it’s approaching at our top aft starboard. I assume they noticed us too, so I turned on the lidar. I’ve been looking at that since.”

“Good initiative. Have you found anything?”

“Possibly. I’m about 80 percent sure it’s a Salamis Kai-class cruiser, but there’s a major anomaly on top. I’m investigating. Also, no sign of any recent Minovsky particle dispersion.”

Salamis Kais were widespread, but mostly used by Neo-Zeon’s enemies including the EFF and AEUG remnants. The approaching ship could be hostile. Mashymre frowned. This shoal zone was littered with Minovsky particles from previous actions, making Ndiaye’s and miss comms girl’s jobs very difficult. But if he was aboard the possible Salamis Kai and noticing the Endra, he would have dispersed Minovsky Particles to cover their advance. Maybe their dispersers were broken, or perhaps they were planning some special maneuver? “Alright Nya-eh, keep investigating. See if you can figure out what the anomaly is.”

“Yes sir, and just call me Johann.”

“Right, Johann.” Mashymre turned to Illia and his XO. “Have you raised the comms officer yet?”

The XO shook his head. Illia made for the radar station, making sure to bump into Mashymre on the way. “Her name is Charlotte Osman Hans,” she whispered into her captain’s ear. Mashymre nodded, and patted Illia on the back as they separated.

Then the door open, and in rushed Charlotte, the Endra’s small, dark comms officer. “Sorry, I really had to go!” Her vision clouded with tears, she bowed deeply to Mashymre and the XO in very quick succession. “Is… Is there anything I need to do?” She ran to her console and dropped herself into her seat.

Mashymre said, “Actually yes, there’s….” He didn’t get to finish, as Charlotte burst into tears.

“I do practically nothing in here all day, and then when I’m finally needed….” Charlotte slumped onto her console, and some shorts sparked up where her tears fell.

Truth be told, Charlotte was being a bit harsh on herself. She sent their daily reports back to Axis, decrypted and de-noised all of the communiques that came back, and handled reports from the two Eye-Zacks that were out on long-range patrol. Mashymre felt like it should be the gunnery officer on his knees, seeing as he hadn’t been called on for anything since launch. Enough was enough.

“ENSIGN CHARLOTTE OSMAN HANS! SPACENOID, YOU ARE NEEDED!” Mashymre’s shouting filled the room. “WHAT ISN’T NEEDED, IS SOMEONE WHO DWELLS ON THEIR FAILURES AT THE EXPENSE OF AVERTING FUTURE ONES! CHARLOTTE, WILL YOU DO YOUR DUTY?” Illia smiled behind Mashymre’s back, and even the XO’s worried visage faded some.

Charlotte smiled. Mashymre thought she was important… and he had actually remembered her name! Not even just her first name, but her last and middle name too! She wondered if today would be the turning point for her disastrous love life. “Yes… sir!”

Tears finally drained from her eyes, Charlotte looked at her console monitor. She’d put it to sleep before leaving for the bathroom; she was playing minesweeper and didn’t like how Johann tended to come over and finish her games while she was away. Even if it did help her win ratio.

Since the monitor was off, it had a reflection. And in that reflection, Charlotte saw what she would have seen earlier, if she’d been more put together. Mashymre’s chest, thighs, abs… and penis, all lain bare to her eyes, in the black filter of her sleeping monitor. She gasped, and blood erupted from her nose.

Charlotte’s nosebleed covered the entire console; every button received at least a sprinkle. Sparks filled the cracks between the buttons and the console casing, much to the entire bridge crew’s sudden consternation. Then a greater sound, like a large electric arc, was heard inside the console.

“Get down!” Mashymre yelled. He rushed to the communications console and pulled Charlotte out from behind her chair. Moments later, an explosion sounded from within the console, and the entire casing swelled and cracked. Fragments showered the room, mostly hitting Mashymre and Ndiaye. Fortunately for the both of them, they weren’t close enough for the shrapnel to pierce their skin, and they had enough warning to cover their eyes. The danger past, Mashymre let Charlotte roll down onto the floor.

“Dear Haman, it’s contagious,” Mashymre said. This disease might spread to the whole ship in time; if they didn’t deal with the approaching ship quickly they might not have a crew to fight it with.

Charlotte sniffled. “I’m sorry….”

Mashymre scowled at the wrecked console. “Don’t be. This isn’t your fault.” He got up and addressed the crew, all of whom, except for Ndiaye, were now staring at him. “Do you think we can still send them a laser?”

The XO shook his head. “No, the laser is attached to the bridge and can only be controlled from here. And that’s just not doable at the moment.”

Ndiaye, still rapt at his screen, said, “Sorry to contradict you sir, but we already have sent them lasers. Just now, several dozen, all at once, some of them still going. I have no idea what they’re saying.”

“That could be a problem,” Illia said.

Ndiaye shushed her. “Hold on, hold on.” The bridge was silent for a few moments. “I’m sure. The Salamis Kai-like vessel has just released Minovsky particles.”

Mashymre gritted his teeth. The Salamis Kai’s dispersers certainly weren’t broken; that theory was disproven. This meeting now had a very high chance of becoming an engagement. Hesitation could be death. “Release Minovsky particles! Charge cannons 1, 2, and 5, and rotate 1 and 2 to stern! Ready anti-beam particles! Charlotte, call engineering up here!” He picked Haman’s rose up from its resting place, and held it high. “May we be victorious!”

The gunnery officer sent out Mashymre’s orders to the particle dispersers and the gunnery crews, and Charlotte called engineering on the bridge telephone. Illia excused herself to gather her MS team. Then Ndiaye issued a new report. “New heat signatures on the Salamis Kai. They appear to be charging up their mega-particle cannons.”

Mashymre closed his eyes. “Pitch down a bit. I want to clear the field of fire for cannons 1 and 2.” Those cannons were on the underside of the bow, and the engine was in the way if they depressed too far. Even if they could bring the underside guns to bear, the Endra could only fire three guns aft, while the Salamis Kai had four guns facing forwards, two of which were double-barreled. But Mashymre was getting a feeling.

“Cannons 1, 2, and 5 are charged,” said the gunnery officer.

And now, the feelings in Mashymre’s head coalesced. He pushed the gunnery officer aside and began typing them in his console. “Tell cannon 1 to fire at this vector… 2 here… and 5 here.”

“O-OK,” The gunnery officer gave a bewildered glance to the XO, who responded with a nod. He sent out the orders, and the guns began rotating towards the headings.

“The Salamis Kai will fire in three seconds,” said Ndiaye.

The gunnery officer was next. “1, 2, 5, all vectored!” A silence fell across the bridge. Some of the personnel looked expectantly at their captain.

Mashymre was confused himself. He looked around his crew. “Didn’t I already say to fire?”

“R-right.” The gunnery officer pressed a button, and flames burst from all three cannons, along with the Salamis Kai’s own guns kilometers away. The beams crossed in space. All four shots from the double-barreled guns went far off, as did one of the shots from the single-barrel guns. The last shot skimmed the engine, melting some of the armor. It was a fairly standard showing for a first volley; the gunners would use the data to aim better next time.

The Endra’s shots were more accurate. One hit the starboard front single-barrel gun dead-on, and another hit the port double-barrel with the same precision. A third barely missed the starboard double-barrel, but melted its top muzzle into something looking more like a cane.

The gunnery officer nodded in approval as Ndiaye reported the damages. “Nice shot, captain. We’ll be ready for a second volley in 30 seconds. Wanna step in again?”

Mashymre shook his head. “Belay that. Launch anti-beam particles. I’d like the curtain to cover a kilometer radius around the ship, and also the debris field to starboardx.” While he’d successfully evened out the weight of gunnery, he had a nagging feeling that engaging in a decisive gun battle would work out poorly. That left the mobile suits, and for his missile-heavy Zssas, a debris zone protected by an anti-beam curtain would be an ideal position from which to engage the enemy.

“But sir…! Fine, then.” The gunnery officer relayed Mashymre’s order. As the missile team plotted launch patterns which would fulfill their captain’s orders, the Salamis Kai launched their own anti-beam particles.

“They’ll probably launch their mobile suits now,” the XO said.

Immediately afterward, Ndiaye said, “The anomaly on the Salamis Kai is moving! It’s… a humongous mobile suit! I can’t tell what kind.”

“Let me see.” Mashymre moved up to the radarman’s console. From the 3d model Ndiaye had made, he actually could tell what kind of mobile suit it was. “Double-Zeta,” he murmured. There were some differences, but that could be down to refits and repairs; it had been a while. He would recognize those giant swords on the back anywhere.

Mashymre turned to Charlotte. “Call the MS team.” Charlotte did, and handed the phone to her captain. “The ZZ Gundam has been sighted.” Ndiaye frowned; he saw the resemblance but thought it was a different model. “Are you ready to launch?”

“Yes,” said Illia. “Since the Salamis Kai is in the other direction, we won’t be needing the catapults.”

“The whole Zssa team is ready, Mashymre,” said Bahia. “Any special orders before takeoff?”

Mashymre did a double-take at the voice. “What are you doing in a mobile suit, Lieutenant Bahia Jubayri? Aren’t you sick?”

“Sir… I….” Bahia was cut off by the snickers of her teammates. “I am a pilot!”

“What if you pass out again during battle? The ZZ Gundam will eat you alive. Hold on, I’ll take your Suit. Wait for me.”

Mashymre turned to his crew. “XO, you take charge of the ship. Keep an anti-beam curtain in between us and them. Charlotte, we’ll be communicating with flares, so that will be your responsibility.”

The XO frowned; he’d thought the captain could at least remember his name. Then he smiled, because Mashymre was leaving the bridge without ever making him get out of the captain’s chair. Not to mention, being in command would be something for his promotion application.

Mashymre lofted the rose again. “Haman wills it!” Then he left.

* * *

The captain practically flew to the mobile suit deck. As he arrived, he saw Bahia standing by her Zssa’s hatch, beckoning him in. He thanked her and saluted, and placed his naked body on the seat.

Mashymre never saw it coming. As the captain pressed the button to close the hatch, Bahia sidestepped behind the hatch and propelled herself headfirst into his lap. Her helmet smashed his genitals into his legs.

Mashymre held in his screams, though. “What are you doing?” He felt he already knew the answer. Neo-Zeon’s soldiers didn’t join up to not fight, and most of them had a strange variant of deafness specific to orders from a superior.

“I am a pilot! I will fly!” Bahia moved herself to a sitting position in Mashymre’s lap; the captain winced as her cold normal suit touched his body. She took advantage of that to lock the hatch, seize the controls, walk her Zssa to the hangar door, and call the hangar chief. “Open up!”

Illia touched Bahia’s Zssa with her ReGelgu. “Is everything okay in there?”

“Yes, I just have a copilot now. I’ll launch with you.” Bahia turned to Mashymre. “Is that alright, captain?” Illia started sputtering a response, but Bahia broke contact with her Suit before she could get meaningful words out of her mouth.

Mashymre shivered. It was the old Endra all over again. Also, it was quite chilly. “Yes, I’ll be here if you pass out again.”

The hangar door began to open. “Mashymre, you aren’t wearing a normal suit,” said Bahia, a sudden realization dawning on her face.

“We’ll just have to avoid being shot down.”

“Got any pointers for me?”

“As long as you don’t pass out, you should be skilled enough. If you do, there’s still me.” The doors now fully opened, the mobile suits went out two at a time. First were Bahia’s Zssa and Illia’s ReGelgu. Neither had a beam rifle; Mashymre had ordered some, but they were slow in arriving. Obviously, since they didn’t have beam rifles, neither did any of the other Zssas. The only silver lining was that the machines would be faster without them.

Bahia took off her helmet; it was somewhat shameful to hide in protective gear when her captain had none. Besides, the helmet was uncomfortable, and she had a better field of vision without it. She glanced back at Mashymre. Yes, definitely a better field of vision.

Illia made contact with Bahia’s Zssa again. “I know you know the plan, but does Mashymre?” Two ranks of Zssas had joined them now, and the third was preparing for takeoff themselves.

“It’s simple; I’ll just explain now,” said Bahia. “We’ll regroup at Point 1, which is forward the Endra in the starboard debris field. From there we’ll attack the Double-Zeta and any support MS, but just enough to get its attention.

“If it attacks and we can’t destroy it, we’ll retreat to Point 2, which is the same distance from the Endra but more down than fore or starboard. The Endra should be able to help us there, but the Salamis Kai won’t.” As she explained, Bahia showed Mashymre the points she mentioned on her monitor.

“That’s a good plan, Illia. But who’s in charge, me or you?”

“Good point. Marshmallow, you should come over here and sit in my… sim-pli-fy the chain of command.”

Bahia leaned into the microphone. “No, he can’t.”

“Whyever not?”

“Because he’s not wearing a normal suit.”

“WHAT? Marshmallow… why… why?” A slight sobbing could be heard from Illia’s microphone.

Bahia smirked. “I don’t know, commander, maybe pink just isn’t his col…urk!”

Mashymre bent Bahia to the side and took the microphone. “You saw how much more energy I have without those clothes getting in the way. I’ll need all I can get to take out the Double-Zeta.”

“This must be a violation of military regulations….”

Mashymre asked, “Aboard a ship, who enforces the regulations?” No reply came. “If that’s settled, then I propose that my orders be followed when we’re regrouped, but that only you can fire flares and lasers. Alright?”

Although the contact link was set to sound-only, Mashymre and Bahia could somehow see Illia wiping her tears and putting an officer’s grimace on her face. “…Yes. I’ll just have to inform everyone else.”

One of the pilots chimed in. “Don’t worry, we all heard everything!”

“H-how much… whatever. Zssa team, move out!”

The Axis mobile suits flew over the Endra, all spread out in a plane normal to their flight path. Illia, whose ReGelgu was the fastest machine in the team, kept her thrusters on low so that her soldiers could keep up.

She glanced at that upstart Bahia’s Zssa. It was certainly a bad situation, but she still had two things in which she could take comfort. First, she knew beyond doubt that pink absolutely was Mashymre’s favorite color. He would be captaining in hot pink leather if she hadn’t told him back at Axis that he looked more commanding in black. Second, Bahia apparently thought she could win over Mashymre with her piloting skills. Fat chance. She was on the battlefield too. Let Bahia try to outdo her in her mobile suit. It would just remind Mashymre why she was the leader of the flight team, and Bahia only the second.

In his shared cockpit, Mashymre reached over Bahia and checked the battlefield scans in the monitor. There were two main debris fields: one on the Endra’s starboard, one down and to port, both parallel with its structure. Since they were facing the opposite direction, the starboard field they were heading towards was on their left. A smaller line of debris connected the two fields in such a way that, from a different angle, the whole arrangement would look like a giant ‘Z’. Z for Zeon, not for ZZ Gundam.

The other ship was only visible as a speck, but the cameras on board the Zssa were able to magnify it into a small, blurry picture. The way it was moving, it seemed like the Salamis Kai was launching more mobile suits. Mashymre nearly took the controls and broke formation to inform Illia about the new suits, but he thought better of it. She had probably already seen them.

By the time Point 1 was reached, the Salamis Kai’s mobile suits were, if visible, still no more than specks to the Zssa’s cameras. The only exception was the Double-Zeta in the middle, which was big enough to have taken some form. With no imminent threat, the Zssa team regrouped into a circle of contact links, just as planned.

“They’re headed towards the Endra,” Illia said. “26, I believe. I regret to inform you not all of us will be making ace today.”

Everyone chuckled; the laughter from the speakers swayed what holdouts there were by the passing of a few seconds. 26 could be a turkey shoot like Illia was suggesting, or it could be a nightmare; it depended on what kind of mobile suit there were 26 of.

Illia entered a new point on the map of the battlefield. It was right on the path the enemy MS were taking, but well ahead of the anti-beam curtain protecting the Endra. “When the enemies reach Point A, we’ll fire three missiles each. Then, once they get within range….” She demarcated a hemisphere around point 1. “We fire for real. To positions!”

Each mobile suit broke away, finding its own piece of debris to hide behind before the enemy Suits reached Point A. Bahia and Mashymre hid behind what looked like a piece of colony wall. It was one of the biggest pieces of debris in the vicinity, so they shared it with another Zssa, and Illia also joined them as soon as they had settled in. Bahia swiveled her Zssa’s monoeye towards her and slid it back and forth in an attempt to register her disapproval, but either Illia didn’t get the hint, or she did and ignored it.

Resigned to her failure, Bahia turned around to face her captain. “Since we’re going tandem, do you want to handle the movement or the armaments?”

“I think I’d be better at the armaments,” Mashymre said.

“In that case, we should switch positions, and give your hands easier access to the console.” Bahia couldn’t suppress her grin; Mashymre would get the better view of the monitor, but she would get the best view of all.

Mashymre nodded and got up, and Bahia took his place. Unfortunately, Bahia hadn’t factored in that Mashymre was quite a bit taller than her. She could only feast her eyes on her captain’s back and neck, and those weren’t very filling. In frustration, she tentatively groped Mashymre’s abs and butt.

“Ooh… ooh.” Mashymre twitched in response to Bahia’s fingers. “What are you doing?”

Bahia thought of passing off her groping as a massage treatment. But then she remembered Illia waiting in her ReGelgu outside, probably just itching to separate her from her captain forever, and her professionalism got the better of her. “Nothing. I can’t see anything from here though; we should switch.” And they went back to their original positions, although Bahia snuck in a feel of her captain’s penis on the switch. It was completely flaccid, much to her dismay.

Bahia banished those thoughts from her mind; the enemy was closing in on Point A now. “You ready, captain? Let’s show these Feddie assholes our missiles!”

Mashymre gently pulled the controls, bringing the Zssa’s waist level with an edge of the drifting wall. “I don’t know if they’re Feddies. They could be AEUG, or even pirates.”

“So, Feddies by a different name?” Bahia targeted three of the enemy mobile suits, hard to make out even though they weren’t quite specks anymore, and from her left shoulder pod loosed one missile for each. The other Zssas all did the same, sending 21 total missiles at the enemy. They made no attempt to coordinate their targeting; between the extreme range and small quantity, no missiles were likely to hit anyway. Illia remained behind the floating wall and did not fire at all; she lacked the missiles to waste in diversions.

“Or pirates,” said Mashymre. Bahia gave an indifferent shrug.

The missiles took nearly a minute to close the kilometers to their targets, but they still managed to wreak havoc. At first only the “Double-Zeta” turned to meet the missiles. It fired its vulcans, but only managed to shoot half a dozen missiles down. As the missiles passed by, it fired a flare signaling its failure.

The other mobile suits all had vulcans, so theoretically they should have been able to ward off all of the missiles. But only half turned their Vulcans on the missiles, and with no coordination, the defending mobile suits all focused on whichever missile was closest at the moment. It was a testament to the pilots’ marksmanship that only one missile did make it through. That missile detonated on an unlucky mobile suit’s left engine, sending it spiraling through space.

Now lasers flashed through the formation, and with half-complete orders, half-baked reasoning, and half-hearted protests, the mass of machines plotted how to meet the new threat. Some of the pilots broke off immediately, most notably the “Double-Zeta”, but others still wanted to stay the course, and only followed their larger comrade in dribs and drabs.

One group was initially told to keep on to the Endra, but as more of their comradesleft to fight the Zssas, they found themselves afraid to be alone and followed them en masse. As they abandoned their mission, they each left a massive anti-ship missile behind them. The plan had been to bring the big rockets close to the Endra before launching, using the suits to confuse their response, but now they were all simply ignited in that general direction.

Their ruse blown, Ndiaye carefully singled out the missiles that were on track to hit, and once they crossed the anti-beam curtain, the guns of the Endra blew each of them into melted fragments.

The enemy mobile suits formed a line 2 kilometers long, the “Double-Zeta” leading but falling behind the smaller, faster suits. As they approached, Mashymre, Bahia, and the other Zssa pilots got a better look at their suits. The small suits were reminiscent of the AEUG’s Rick Dias, but had evidently gotten new binder units attached. The new binders were nearly as tall as the rest of the mobile suit, making for a strange silhouette. The “Double-Zeta” also had some features Mashymre didn’t recognize from his old foe, such as a monstrous cannon mounted on the arm above the familiar double beam rifle, and a lack of wing shields. The captain mentally changed its name to “ZZ Custom”.

Now the range was shortening, the Zssas came into the open, and formed a circle facing their foes. Bahia and the rest of the pilots selected targets and plotted missile flight paths with their computers. Illia launched a wire from her hiding place onto Bahia’s foot and joined the communications. Although the Diases fired from their binder-mounted guns, their beams sunk ineffectually into the protective curtain, so there was no reason to dodge.

Then the ZZ Custom fired.

It fired from its monster handheld gun a shot dwarfing any the Endra’s pilots had seen before. The beam tore through the curtain, although fortunately it was refracted too far away from the Zssas to do any harm. The Diases in front began to fire, hoping to take advantage.

Bahia elbowed Mashymre. “Get us out of here!” The captain closed his eyes, and furrowed his brows in thought.

Illia’s voice came through on the communications. “We’ll have to split. I’ll…”

“No!” Mashymre reared up in his seat, nearly sending Bahia face-first onto the monitor. Though the Zssa pilots had been about to leave, they all sat back in their seats now. It was one of the captain’s feelings again. “Bahia, you have an ABP missile. Plug the hole!”

“That will…” A beam from a Dias pierced her Zssa’s left foot, interrupting her. Half of the missiles stored there cooked off loudly.

Mashymre yelled loudly enough to be heard over that din. “NOW!”

Bahia selected a point she hoped was the location of the hole, chose the relevant missile launcher in her chest, and closed her eyes for a second’s prayer… but in that time Mashymre preempted her and pressed the launch button himself. Bahia felt she should have been irked, but the calming of her captain eased the atmosphere too much for her to be.

The missile’s fuse detonated right on target, though statistically common a miracle still, for which Bahia credited her prayer. The anti-beam particles spread out, but before they could get far, the ZZ custom fired again, and its beam hit the new particles square. Still fairly concentrated, the particles split the beam into two packets of plasma, which each spun off and incinerated a random chunk of debris.

Illia issued new orders. “Stay in position! Josef, launch your ABP missile! Mehmet, be prepared to fire another! They’ll cross our fire range soon, be ready!”

The Zssa pilots waited. They double-checked their launch plans, and in the process moved more missiles to target the ZZ Custom. That giant suit fired again, blasting another hole soon plugged. But with no more of the fairly rare MS-sized Anti-Beam Particle missiles to be had, the tension in the Zssas skyrocketed, until finally their firing range was ready.

“Fire!” Illia’s yell was mostly ceremonial; her pilots knew when the firing conditions were met, and half of the tubes were already empty by the time her words left her throat. Nonetheless, it was dramatic and raised spirits.

Missiles spread on all sides of the enemy column, then dove into the metal stream to inflict their damage. This time the enemy were more prepared to deflect missiles; not a single Dias failed to fire vulcans. However, there were also important factors against them. Some of the Diases had already fired many rounds from their vulcans, and had to conserve ammunition. And there were many more missiles fired in this volley; 433, in fact.

But perhaps most importantly, strung out as they were, the Diases found it difficult to coordinate their response. Where they found themselves already close, they clumped together and warded off most of the missiles, but some found themselves stranded and were overwhelmed. Due to the angle of the missiles and the Diases, most of those hit were hit in the binders or head. 14 were damaged in this way and broke off the attack, but four Dias pilots were not so lucky. Their mangled bodies and machines coasted onwards, to join the debris field..

The ZZ Custom, target of so much of the Zssas’ fire, found itself with only one wingman against the onslaught. They both fired away, not just with Vulcans but with any beam weapons they could target the missiles with, and together shot down over a hundred missiles. But more came. The suits both launched dummies to divert the missiles, but that only fooled so many, and more came. They took the wingman first, blowing off an arm, then a binder, and finally piercing the cockpit hatch and transmuting the pilot to cooked salsa.

Missiles bombarded the ZZ Custom’s armor, here cooking off the left forearm missile launcher, there busting the right knee joint. But the suit remained intact, and the pilot came to believe the salvo was over. He was wrong; three more missiles came, these having been released with a timed delay set on the rocket. A hunch from Mashymre. The pilot grabbed his controls, and in desperation shielded himself with his Hyper Mega Cannon. All three missiles hit the cannon, and tore it apart. Those were the last of the Zssas’ missiles. Now all that remained were the Endra machines, the ZZ Custom, and, depending on how you counted, between six to twenty of the Diases.

More lasers sparked between the remaining enemy mobile suits. The leading suits slowed down, not wanting to face the Zssas ahead of their larger ally, and the laggers caught up some. Eventually, a decision was reached. Much to their pilots’ chagrin, the damaged mobile suits would not be allowed to retreat. Instead they would group up in an artillery park, where those still with heads could transmit their headless comrades with targeting information through contact links, and all remaining binders and thrusters could be used to move in unison. The less damaged mobile suits would attack, and the artillery park would cross the anti-beam curtain one minute after but stay out of the actual debris field.

While the enemy was distracted by the missile salvo, the Endra’s suits had been busy. With no missiles left, and their shoulder pods also detatched, the Zssas were much lighter and faster. Immediately after all missiles were loosed, they had broken their circle and taken more covered positions closer to Point 2. As they retreated they laid dummy asteroids and suits, to further confuse their foes. Illia even set space mines on some that were predicted to linger near the enemy’s axis of advance.

All the Endra’s suits watched as the enemy crossed the curtain. The Diases began firing indiscriminately as soon as they could, though they didn’t know which pieces of debris the Zssas were hiding behind.

They got lucky. One beam from a Dias’s long binder speared through the stucco-clad slab of drywall a Petty Officer Mehmet had hid himself behind, and went in and out of the Zssa’s reactor. As the reactor began rapid disassembly, Mehmet bailed out in time, but the explosion sent a piece of metal through his vernier, and he drifted towards the Diases. A plume of of air could be seen spouting from where the vernier had once been attached.

Bahia froze. Not counting the bad bout of corona Mehmet had come down with in training, this was the first ever casualty among people she commanded. She looked back at Mashymre, who seemed just as horrified. An easy decision, then. “Captain, bring us up to Mehmet. Let’s rescue him.”

Mashymre’s hands didn’t budge. “No, that won’t do. Illia said to wait here, and we will.” Although it was regrettable, maintaining the integrity of his force had to come before any individual lives.

“Illia….” Bahia scowled. What had that underage stripper done to Mashymre to make him so obedient? It made her angry just to think about it. She glanced back again. Yes, he would understand.

Bahia shifted in her seat, and drove her elbow into Mashymre’s crotch. As the captain’s grip loosened, Bahia seized the controls and drove the Zssa forward. The light of her thrusters illuminated a final hand-signal from her machine, telling all the rest of the Endra’s pilots not to break formation to help her. Although them helping would make her mission easier, it would put the whole battle at risk.

Mehmet was on the other side of the formation, half a kilometer away. The enemy were only one and a half kilometers away themselves. So after Bahia left cover, it wasn’t even five seconds before the first beam came in her direction. She juked under it, and accelerated forward.

Mashymre covered up his crotch and moaned. “My… dick…”

“Want me to kiss it and make it better?” Bahia winked. “After the battle.”

The ZZ Custom and Diases focused their fire on Bahia’s Zssa. She dodged one beam, and another, and another. Although the fire was withering, she was able to move forward in between each shot.

“Bahia… the controls….”

“I’ll give them back when my man is safe.”

As she spoke, the ZZ Custom fired another shot from its double beam rifle. This one Bahia didn’t fully dodge, and the Zssa’s arm shriveled around a beam which transfixed from the left hand nearly down to the elbow and superheated the fuel in the forearm verniers.

“Aagh!” Bahia fired her verniers to shift her suit behind a floating rooftop; from there a mostly covered route to Mehmet was available. But the left forearm verniers exploded upon firing, and the Zssa was sent spinning.

“Give me the controls!”

“No!”

Mashymre knew he would now have to resort to desperate measures to survive. At least there was a desperate measure available to him. Over his dealings with Bahia, he had developed a minor suspicion that the pilot found him attractive. He had no idea how this had happened, but it opened a little door through him, and for Lady Haman’s sake he would crawl through that door even if it was ringed with barbed wire.

Mashymre lightly kissed Bahia on the neck.

As soon Mashymre’s lips touched Bahia’s neck, all of the muscles in her body shivered, and a trickle of blood came from her nose. Mashymre frowned; he had wanted to give his first kiss to Lady Haman. But as Bahia’s hands went to her nose, Mashymre grabbed the controls.

Mashymre righted the Zssa’s course, and continued towards Mehmet. Now that they were already out of position with cover blown, there was no reason not to attempt to rescue him. Mashymre moved behind the rooftop, dodged several blind shots through the tiles, and had Bahia set the booster to full power. At full speed he weaved from cover to cover, never once letting the enemy track his course between objects. Finally, he found himself behind the wall that had once been Mehmet’s cover, just 50 uncovered meters away from the pilot, and stopped.

“Can we distract them for just a few seconds?” Mashymre asked Bahia. He dodged a blind shot, which nonetheless would have hit if he hadn’t done anything.

“Certainly,” said Bahia. “I have a plan, if you’ll listen.”

A few seconds later, a Zssa came spinning back around the wall. It was instantly riddled with beams, and quickly shrunk back into the small ball it had been stored as. Before the ZZ Custom and Diases could process that the suit was merely a thrown dummy, a flash of light came from the waist of a real one, which had come from the other side of the wall. The intense light overrode the light sensitivity settings for the enemy’s sensors back to “Earth Daylight” standards, and when the light ceased the pilots were plunged into darkness.

“I knew this would work! Just like Gato in ’79!” Bahia fired again from her waist Scattering Beam Gun, but it was full-fledged beams that came out now. The beam power was still set very low, but the number and rapidity of the beams was such that the enemy all ran for cover. Even with no aiming between shots, she did take off a Dias’s leg.

“Closing in!” Mashymre impelled the Zssa to Mehmet, where Bahia stopped firing and took the downed pilot in the Zssa’s hands.

Opening a contact link with his normal suit, she asked, “Are you alright?”  


“I have an oxygen leak, but otherwise yes. Can you let me in?”

Bahia instinctively reached for the hatch release, but Mashymre grabbed her hand. He pointed to himself and shook his head furiously.

Bahia went back to the microphone. “No.”

“But why?”

Bahia looked back at Mashymre, then back again. “Uhhhhh… No reason. Hold tight!” She turned Mehmet around so his back was facing her and launched glue onto the back of his mobile suit. Then she opened the undamaged foot missile launcher cover, brought her foot up to the pilot, and sealed him inside.

Mehmet’s banging echoed through the mobile suit. “Shut up, Mehmet!” said Bahia, as she fired the beam scatter gun once again at some Diases whose pilots had regained enough bravery to take potshots at her. “Brace for thrust! Mashymre, take us out of here!”

“Mashymre? Aaaaahhhhhhhh!!!” The Zssa turned around, fired up its booster, and left at full speed. The enemy left their cover now, and followed. So as not to draw fire to his men and women still in cover, Mashymre retreated to a metal wall “below” them (based on the Endra’s orientation).

“Get ready to fire!” Approaching the wall, Mashymre brought all of the suit’s limbs together, hit the Zssa’s stumpified left arm against the wall to spin the suit around, and then arrested the spin with the intact right arm. The suit’s booster now pointing “up”, he eased the suit so its waist gun was just above the wall’s margin.

Bahia aimed and fired. The scattering gun was far from a sniper weapon, but she got the ZZ Custom and two Diases in the spread of her beams, and hit the gun off the tip of one of a Dias’s binders with one. Both of the Diases ducked out of her path; however, one ran straight into one of Illia’s space mines. The mine latched onto the cockpit hatch, and minced the pilot in its explosion.

Seeing that they were advancing into a minefield, the ZZ Custom sent lasers to its five remaining wingmen, ordering them to retreat and go around the minefield. They turned their backs immediately, three of the Diases veering off further to the left, while the other two and the ZZ custom went right, in the direction of their backup. At 2.3 kilometers from the Zssa team’s position, they parted further, bouncing their exhaust streams off one another.

As soon as they did, Illia fired a flare. This flare signaled to the Zssas, and the Endra as well, “Attack!” Each Zssa immediately emerged from cover, and fired their scattering guns at the enemy. Illia also fired two rounds of missiles.

These missiles, sixteen total, flew straight down the middle of the minefield, and at 2.3 kilometers out diverged to chase both groups of enemies. Finding themselves facing the wrong way, with little ammo left in their Vulcans, and dodging scattershot beams all the meanwhile, all of the enemies elected to run from the missiles. While ordinarily they would have soon caught up, Illia had programmed a limiter into the missile engines to prolong the chase.

So the two groups diverged even further. The right group aimed for the artillery park, who could shoot down the missiles, while the port group tried to swerve through as many obstacles as they could to shake their pursuers. The latter did succeed in taking two missiles out, but Illia had spent her long wait in cover programming as much of the debris field as possible into her missiles’ friend-foe identifiers, so the remaining six would not be shaken.

As they closed in, the missiles stuck close together down the center of their targets. Then, as their enemies split to gain distance, they diverged again and chased each one. The ZZ Custom was chased towards the Zssa team, its Dias wingmen were shooed away, and the port group of Diases was scattered before it could reach the artillery park.

However, the artillery park was gone by that point. For the Endra had seen the attack flare as well, and its response was to fire a salvo of missiles at the mass of damaged suits. Seeing the incoming missiles, the artillery park broke and ran without trying to shoot it down. They left their beam rifles and sabers behind them, a sacrifice to the god of acceleration.

One of the Dias pilots, in his panic, even ejected his binders. He quickly fell behind his peers, and took all of the Endra’s missiles in his fuselage. Though they were no longer being chased, the damaged suits did not stop until they reached the Salamis Kai.

Recognizing their plan dashed, the three port group Diases all turned around and fired on the missiles. They were too late to stop any of the first four missiles from hitting them, but the ReGelgu’s missiles were small and only managed to bust armor plates. The following four they shot down like fish in a barrel, and the Diases sped back towards their leader.

However, that was a far distance. The closer Diases of the rightward group had not given up trying to shake the missiles, and neither had the ZZ Custom itself. It would take a long time before they could aid their leader.

Illia seized on the opportunity once again, and launched another flare. Left. She and her Zssas now left cover completely, and formed up into a loose hexagon with Illia’s ReGelgu at the center. Mashymre and Bahia’s Zssa joined them and formed the left point. Once they were in formation, the Endra’s suits made a beeline for the ZZ Custom.

The ZZ Custom’s pilot quickly noticed their approach, and launched all of his missiles straight at the Endra team. But they didn’t budge a millimeter from their paths; instead, the Zssas formed a circle of lasers between them, assigned each unit a few missiles, and shot each one down. Illia also joined in the laser network, but for now she didn’t do anything.

Mashymre took the chance to warn his men. “Be careful of the beam sabers. They’re very long, so stay away unless you’re prepared to block them.” Illia and the other pilots replied in the affirmative.

Seeing its enemies still coming, the ZZ Custom tried to swerve up and attack the formation from one side. However, as it braked, the two of Illia’s missiles that were still chasing it rammed into its rear thrusters, and it lurched downwards instead.

The ZZ Custom fired at Illia from its Twin Beam Rifle, but she dodged both shots. The formation spread out, and cut off laser communications. In the coming fight, it would be impractical to maintain them.

The Zssas and ZZ Custom exchanged beam fire, each Zssa firing from its waist gun as the ZZ Custom returned with its twin beam rifle. At first the ZZ Custom supplemented its fire with shots from the two beam cannons on its back, but as the beams kept coming in, hammering at the armor and threatening the joints and seams, it became too preoccupied with dodging to use those weapons. The Zssas also took hits, but although each hit tore straight through their armor, none harmed their reactors or cockpits.

As the ZZ Custom flailed, the Endra team changed formations. The left and right points of the hexagon moved in, and along with the center sped towards the ZZ custom, while the top and bottom sides kept their distance. This was a formation meant to help an ace destroy a single opponent. The center would barrage and then engage in melee; the left and right flankers would assist in the center’s barrage and intervene if the opponent ever showed an opening or threatened the center; the other four would provide ranged support if the opponent stayed out of melee range and keep watch for the opponent’s allies in case they moved to intervene. It was foolproof, to the extent that all plans are before they meet the enemy.

The ZZ Custom turned its feet to the enemy, and tried to flee on its sputtering and flaming backpack, but it met with all the Zssas’ fire. The Endra’s pilots made sure to over-lead the ZZ Custom, so that all of its dodges would only take it closer to Illia’s ReGelgu.

Soon, the massive machine’s pilot decided that away was not the best direction, and righted itself. The Zssas’ scattering beams all missed by far, as their pilots failed to adjust their aim.

Mashymre wasn’t worried, though. Rather, he was so exhilarated for the coming melee that in his seat he was bouncing, which Bahia tried to ignore. “Oh, lady-knight of Zeon, how bright is your blade! As bright as your eyes where targeting is made. Meet the enemy with sword arm well seasoned. And add glory to our lovely regent.” Bahia suppressed a groan. There were things she would have to change.

The ReGelgu and the ZZ Custom took sights at each other. The ZZ Custom shot its twin beam rifle; the ReGelgu dodged and launched a grenade from its arm. The grenade landed just left of the cockpit hatch, and blew off the ZZ Custom’s gun arm.

Now Illia went in with her beam saber, although for some reason her opponent did not draw one. This oversight only made her job easier. She swung at the cockpit, and the pilot only escaped death by firing all of his thrusters and verniers to propel himself upwards. He still lost a leg to Illia’s blade. She continued along the path of her slash, and took a Parthian shot with her remaining grenade. This one exploded on the ZZ Custom’s backpack rockets, taking out its main means of propulsion for good.

Bahia couldn’t see her captain, but she could feel him smiling as he saw Illia dismantling the ZZ Custom. No doubt she was smiling too, thinking of how she was looking good in front of Mashymre. She furiously shook her head. “Mashymre, let’s go in!”

“I don’t know. Illia looks like she’s got this handled, and I wouldn’t want to steal her kill….”

Bahia drew her elbow up above Mashymre’s crotch.

The captain cringed, and instinctively let go of the controls. “Uh, okay. Boosters, full power!” Mashymre turned the Zssa to the ZZ Custom, and fired all thrusters.

“Good. We don’t have beam sabers for nothing, you know!”

As they drew closer, Bahia entered a stabbing macro on the console, and targeted the enemy suit’s engine. She also brought up a parry-right macro, just in case the ZZ Custom drew a beam saber with its remaining arm, and a riposte macro to follow. She just hoped she didn’t miss any macros that might be more helpful; there were so many of them, after all.

Just then, a laser landed on the Zssa, and Charlotte Osman Hans appeared on the monitor. “Stop fighting! We’re on the same side!”

“Huh?” As Bahia and Mashymre tried to process this new information, the Zssa landed square on the large enemy MS, and its beam saber, driven by momentum, went straight into the ZZ Custom’s reactor. Bahia abandoned her beam saber, and clambered up the ZZ Custom to gain distance from the explosion.

As she did, the ZZ Custom’s cockpit hatch opened. The pilot came out brandishing a pistol and a small limpet mine, and he flew onto the Zssa’s leg. He seemed very angry, especially when he gave the Zssa’s monoeye a middle finger.

Fortunately, it wasn’t a problem. Bahia opened the leg cover, and the glued-up and slightly nauseous Mehmet held up the possible enemy pilot with his own pistol. He dropped his weapons, and Bahia swatted them away. Unarmed, he joined Mehmet in the Zssa’s leg compartment, and the Zssa pulled away in time for it not to be harmed by the ZZ Custom’s explosion.

The Endra’s mobile suits regrouped, all touching each other for the contact links. After some laser communications, they were joined by the five remaining Diases, and Charlotte from the Endra. From there, certain things were worked out.

The Salamis Kai that the Endra had been fighting was named the Maracay. The men and women of the Maracay were former members of the Republic of Zeon Defence Force, who had joined the AEUG during the Gryps Conflict due to being disgusted by the massacres of the Titans. They had mostly avoided the bloodbath of the final battle at Gryps, and retreated to the moon.

Satou, the leader of the Maracay’s MS team who was currently being held at gunpoint inside a Zssa’s leg, had been issued a mobile suit called the FAZZ as part of the AEUG’s rearmament. This suit was similar to the ZZ Gundam, but also quite different. The Zeonic AEUG men’s Rick Diases had also been upgraded to Schuzrum Diases.

However, being Zeon citizens, and contolists all, the pilots and spacemen that would form the Maracay’s crew started to doubt the wisdom of fighting with the AEUG against Neo-Zeon. So just one week ago, they had secretly contacted Neo-Zeon, arranged their defection, stolen the Maracay where one of their number had been the captain, and escaped.

From there, they were supposed to rendezvous with Captain Mashymre. The Endra’s EWAC Zacks had met the Maracay first, and landed on the ship for refreshments after sending their reports to the Endra. However, the Endra’s communications officer was in the bathroom at the time, so these reports were never viewed. Charlotte could barely bring herself to relay this detail.

From the Endra’s subsequent laser mishap, the Maracay had taken their new comrades as pirates, and, hoping to gain favor within Neo-Zeon, attacked them. As the Eye-Zack pilots gorged themselves on the Maracay’s provisions, they were seized, tied up, and tossed in the brig.

Then a battle had taken place, the course of which Bahia and the rest of the Zssa pilots breathlessly recounted to Charlotte. The Dias pilots mostly just grumbled, but occasionally gave excuses for their performance.

Charlotte closed out the explanation. She and the maintenance people had managed to get the laser system fixed eventually, and after that it didn’t take very long for her and the Maracay’s bridge crew to realize that they shouldn’t be fighting. And that, not any of the pilots’ battlefield antics, was the only positive contribution to the Neo-Zeonic cause anyone had made that day.

* * *

The Endra’s mobile suits returned to their ship in a fog of confused emotions. On one hand, they had killed many of their own fellow Neo-Zeon soldiers. On the other hand, they’d had their first battle as one group, and they’d won! They’d fought a force that outnumbered them by over three to one, and none of them even died!

Analysis of the battle showed that Bahia had gotten three kills, which added up with the Hizack she’d shot at Gryps to put her just one kill away from ace status. Illia didn’t begrudge her the kill-steal, since she’d made ace herself long ago. She and two other Zssa pilots had gotten one kill each, as had one of the Dias pilots on the other side. Mehmet and Satou were both counted as kills, despite both being alive and well, because their Suits were not.

All of the Mobile Suits landed on the Endra, to the groans of the mechanics who saw how damaged some of them were. Upon landing, Mashymre and Bahia let their passengers out of their leg, but didn’t disembark themselves until the hangar was re-pressurized. While they waited, Bahia took her normal suit off and gave Mashymre a massage under the pretense of a reward. She focused on his butt as much as she felt she could get away with.

Eventually, the two were able to leave their unit. Some, but not most, of the Endra’s pilots were shocked to see their captain naked. Most of the Maracay’s pilots were too drained to object. Lieutenant Satou, on the other hand, was not.

Satou took Mashymre’s condition as an insult. “Look at me, I didn’t even need clothes to beat you,” he could hear him saying, though the nudist’s mouth didn’t move. In fairness, it was not uncommon for Zeon or Neo-Zeon pilots to forgo normal suits to show confidence in their abilities. They were never really able to let go of their spiffy uniforms for this posturing, however.

Satou charged at Mashymre, shouting obscenities. Fortunately, Bahia stepped in front of her captain and socked the Maracay’s mobile suit leader right in the solar plexus, sending him to his knees. She followed up with a roundhouse kick to the ribs. All of the Endra’s pilots and the hangar chief looked on Bahia in awe, and she hid behind Mashymre to avoid their stares. As for the Maracay’s pilots, they merely cringed and redoubled their wishes for the day to end already. It wasn’t 6 in the morning yet, but with enough alcohol they could make it happen.

Mashymre said, “Attention!”

Everyone turned to him and stood at attention.

“I would like to address you all. Come here.”

The pilots of the Endra and the Maracay, except for Lt. Satou, all lined up abreast in front of Mashymre. From a deck, some of the Endra’s shipboard personnel had also come to greet their captain. Charlotte Osman Hans, Johann Ndiaye, and Dr. Malgorzata Witek, the latter carrying both a frightful scowl and a large pair of binoculars on her face, watched from the deck.

Ndiaye turned to Charlotte. “Why is the captain naked?”

“He’s been naked the whole time,” said Charlotte. “Didn’t you notice?”

“Huh. No, I didn’t. Why has he been naked the whole time, may I ask?”

“I have absolutely no idea. Dr. Witek, do you?”

Witek put the binoculars down. “That’s a loaded question. I would prefer, ‘Why hasn’t he been naked until today?’”

Ndiaye asked, “And why do you suppose that is?”

“Beats me,” said Witek. “Cyber-Newtypes are strange creatures.”

“I suppose they are.” Ndiaye turned to Charlotte. “Wanna get dinner together after this?”

“Alright, but don’t expect me to hold your hand or anything.”

On the floor, no one knew whether to expect praise or a scolding. After an overly long pause to find something to stand on, Mashymre began to clear up their doubts. “Pilots of the Endra. This is your victory! Although you may have slain some of our allies, above all you have proven yourselves worthy of being Lady Haman’s servants. I would especially like to congratulate one of our pilots. She was indispensable for our victory.”

Bahia straightened up her posture and grinned.

“Lieutenant Illia Pazom!”

Bahia pouted, but tried to maintain her posture. Illia stepped forward.

Mashymre put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re a true knight. I’ll put you in for a medal.”

Illia stepped away with a smile on her face, and the captain spoke again. “Chief Petty Officer Bahia Jubayri!”

Bahia stepped up, hopeful once more, and Mashymre put his hand on her shoulder.

“You got the most kills during this battle. In addition, you likely saved the life of one of your comrades. I’ll be sure to mention you in my dispatch, and a reward will be in store for you and Illia both. In fact, I have something special to give you right now.” Mashymre swept Bahia off her feet and took her in a bridal carry. Witek audibly pounded the deck railing, and the smile fell right off Illia’s face.

With Bahia in her arms, he continued. “All of this ship’s crew have performed excellently, and you will see more in your next paycheck. You pilots especially; you will get extra.”

One of the Maracay’s pilots asked, “What about us?”

“No. You’re all disgraces, and your captain should give you some sort of punishment. Not my problem, though.” Mashymre turned, and walked away with Bahia in his arms.

* * *

Mashymre took Bahia out of the hangar, past Witek and Illia’s glares.

“So Mashymre… can I call you Marshmallow? I know only Illia calls you that… Can we have a relationship like you and her?”

Mashymre nodded. “I’d love to have someone on here I can trust as much as Illia.”

“Well… you don’t have to totally let go of Illia…. We can all be together… as long as you let me on everything you let her in on.”

“You have done very well today. Maybe I will invite you to more meetings.

“Meetings?”

Mashymre stopped. “Ah, here we are!” He opened a door and let Bahia down inside the room, which was none other than the brig. A sleeping bag had been placed inside, along with a pillow and a water bottle. “Sweet dreams!” He closed and locked the door.

Bahia cursed, but Mashymre didn’t listen. He continued on to his room, where he looked at himself in the mirror over his sink.

Not wearing clothes had felt so good. But in doing so, he had distracted his female subordinates. Distracted female subordinates had led to breakdowns in communication. Breakdowns in communications had led to friendly fire. In the hands of his pilots he’d spent so much effort training, friendly fire was anything but. And so by not wearing clothes, he had killed six soldiers of Neo-Zeon.

Granted, six deaths were not really that many. Not compared to the thousands at Dublin. But these deaths reduced the number of people fighting for Lady Haman. That was a resource almost as priceless as mobile suits. Mobile suits like the FAZZ: a great weapon which took tremendous effort to destroy. It could have been of so much use in Neo-Zeon.

This was a day of great victory for the Endra’s pilots; that much was true, at least. But for Mashymre, it was a day of shame and defeat. Nudity was no longer a luxury he could claim to deserve.

As Mashymre laid another of his custom uniforms in front of him, he shed a tear.

Mashymre’s nudity began and ended in a single morning, but the memory of those events did not. He would be remembered in the collective consciousness of the Neo-Zeon movement as a cyber-newtype captain who, despite obvious insanity, led his crew quite effectively. And his reputation would give rise to a nickname for cyber-newtypes, and sometimes even oldtypes, who fit that mold. That nickname was: Captain Full Frontal.


End file.
